


Cry

by closetspngirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Hell Dean, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetspngirl/pseuds/closetspngirl
Summary: Dean comes back into her world after being a stranger in it for so long. When his deal is owed for bringing Sam back, she doesn't know exactly how she's supposed to handle forever with him gone.This was inspired by the song 'Cry' by Mandy Moore.





	1. Part 1

Sioux Falls was _not_ that big of a city. Okay, it was comparable to the Kansas side of Kansas City, but it was bigger than Burbank, California as surprising as that was. Despite the fact that you lived in a city with a population of 150 thousand people, your little corner of Sioux Falls felt incredibly small; everyone knowing everyone else. You grew up here, had the same classmates from kindergarten all the way through senior year. Some of your classmates were lucky to get out and see the country, leave for college and never look back. You couldn’t blame them and were even a little jealous since you wanted to do that as well, but you couldn’t. 

You took classes at the local community college when you could, working towards a BA in Theology, not really knowing yet what the plans were with the degree. You always had a fascination with the history and lore even though you didn’t know what it would do for you in life. While going to school you worked full time as a waitress at the diner in town, the same one that your parents used to take you and your sister Chloe to when you were younger. It was a nice enough job that paid you enough to make your rent and pay your bills, put some away in savings as well as pay for a few classes every now and then. 

You loved working at the diner, even though it wasn’t what you had always planned on doing. Your family had known the owner, an adorable woman named Darla who treated you and your sister as her own grandchildren. Growing up you and Chloe would call them Oma since she practically helped raise the two of you, especially after your parents died when you were 18. _Wow, 11 years ago already._

The bell above the door rang pulling you out of your thoughts as a few people shuffled in, finding places to sit in the still relatively empty establishment. One of your regulars, Bobby Singer, went straight to the counter and took the stool at the end. Without saying anything, you brought over a cup of coffee setting it down in front of him and leaning against the counter next to him.

“G’morning handsome. How’s your morning so far?” You asked him.

“Morning darlin’. Better now that I’ve seen you.” his gruff voice responded with a smile. He was a grumpy old man with everyone else, but you just loved him. 

You smiled and winked at him. “Your usual?”

“Of course. You know, you _could_ find someone a couple years younger than me,” he said with a chuckle. “Speaking of, can I get two more cups of coffee? I have a couple people meeting me.”

“What if I like my men a little older, Bobby?” you asked him giving him a kiss on the cheek. You turned to go back behind the counter to get the two cups of coffee and tell the kitchen his order. You hadn't noticed when the bell rang this time until you turned to bring the coffees back to where Bobby sat. Just sitting down there were two other guys joining him. 

“Oh, morning boys. I take it these coffees are for you then,” you said, placing them in front of each of the very tired looking guys.

“Yes. Please,” replied one of them, practically taking the cup out of your hand and drinking it down. 

Bobby and the other guy chuckled, “Never was a morning person,” He said more to you than anyone else, clapping the guy on the back, getting a glare in return. 

“I’ll give you boys a few minutes to look over the menu. Just give me a holler when you’re ready,” you said sweetly before you walked away to take care of the other customers.

“What was that about?” Dean asked, having put himself in the middle of the older man and Sam. 

“What was what?” Bobby replied. 

“The kiss that waitress gave you just before we sat. She’s a little young for you, don’t you think?” Dean asked, trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Shut up, ya idjit. She’s just being nice, I’ve known her since she was a kid.”

After tending to the other patrons in the diner, you came back to the guys. You had given them a few extra minutes since it looked like they had started having a deep conversation, while the taller one was flipping through some kind of old leather-bound book. You had seen them before, not always with Bobby and not always together, but always quiet and kept to themselves. 

_It was just the beginning of spring, the chill from the late winter still hanging in the mid-May air. The diner was slow and you were talking to Betty, one of your regulars, about her granddaughter. The tiny bell above the door rang drawing your attention to it. It was as if it happened in slow motion. A man with chestnut brown hair walked in, well-worn brown leather jacket and a tired look on his face. He looked around for a second before sliding into a booth on the far side of the diner._

_You had seen this man in here on various occasions. Never more than a day or two in a row, and you knew he wasn’t from town. With as often as he was coming in you figured he had to know someone in town, you just didn’t know whom. More often than not he’d sit and have a cup of coffee and keep to himself. If he was with the taller man, they’d maybe get lunch, but they always talked in hushed tones. The taller one had been the nice one, this man usually being cold and somewhat standoffish. It was almost as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and he didn’t have time for much of anything else in his life._

_Today seemed different though._

_“Betty, I’ll be right back, and then you can finish telling me all about your granddaughter,” You gave her a warm smile before walking over to the man._

_“Hello, what can I get for you today?”_

_His deep green eyes were the first thing that you noticed before your gaze trailed over the freckles landing at the crooked little smile on his lips. He was quite handsome, young, but the look on his face told you that he had been through his share of events, whatever they were._

_“Hi, I’ll just take a coffee for now, black,” he responded, sounding just as tired as he looked._

_“Sure,” You said with a soft smile, studying his face for a second, “I’ll be right back with that.”_

_A few minutes later you were back at his table, the man staring out of the window into the grey overcast sky, lost in another world you couldn’t see. The sound of the cup hitting the table seemed to slowly bring him out of the daze he was in. When he heard the second dish touch the tabletop, he looked over to you, where you now sat on the opposite side of him in the booth._

_“Oh, I-” he started._

_You let out a short laugh, “I know. But it looked like you could use it, and it’s on the house. Pie fixes everything.”_

_“Thanks sweetheart,” he smiled and laughed a little like he was laughing at some inside joke with himself. You could tell it was a truly genuine smile, making his eyes a little brighter than they had been a few moments ago, despite the sort of melancholy look in them._

_You didn’t know why, but you wanted to reach out for his hand that was resting next to the plate of pecan pie, tell him everything was going to be okay, or try to make everything all right for him. He was the type of person that you wanted to get to know and talk to; you knew someone like him had to have a story or two. You were sensitive to how others felt, and something about him was drawing you in, even though you didn’t know him._

_“Of course. You know where to go if you ever need another slice,” you told him. He held your gaze for a beat smiling softly, before you got up to go back over to Betty, stealing a glance over your shoulder as you walked away. He had his eyes closed as he enjoyed his first bite of pie, a look of peace, even if temporary, on his face. The thought of him even having a few moments of…stillness…made your heart warm._

You ended up breaking the discussion up when they didn’t hear you walking up to them behind the counter. “So, what’ll it be guys?” you asked getting your pen and order pad out of your apron. 

The middle one seemed to not realize what you were talking about, as he looked up to you properly for the first time since he came in, “Hm?” 

_Those eyes, I’d remember them anywhere._ “Um, breakfast. What would you like to eat?” You repeated, a little slower, deciding if it was because he wasn’t paying attention or you were realizing that it really was the man from months ago, those olive eyes looking into yours. He still took a second to answer, until the tall one elbowed him in the side. 

“Dude, answer her Dean. She doesn’t have all day.” _Dean_. An amused look settled on your face from the exchange between the two men. You could hear Bobby chuckle next to Dean, but you held your gaze with the man in the middle, his eyes still locked on yours. As if he was coming out of a daze, he cleared his throat, “Right, breakfast. I’ll uh, I’ll have the pancakes, bacon and eggs, with a side of bacon. And more coffee please.” 

“Sure thing. And for you?” you asked the other one, as you finished writing down Dean’s order. 

“May I get the egg white omelet with spinach, mushroom and green pepper, no cheese? And a glass of orange juice.” 

“Absolutely,” you told them, as you made your way to drop the ticket off for the kitchen. 

After you left, Dean pulled his gaze from your back and turned his attention to the conversation, hearing that Sam was addressing him. “So you have what…just over nine months? What are we going to do about this? Who’s even in charge of the deals that the demons make? There has to be someone, right-“

“Sammy,” Dean cut in. “I told you. I’m fine with dying if it means you get to live. I was prepared for this the day I made the deal. Besides, you don’t just get out of a demon deal.”

“We’ll find something, Dean. How many times have we gotten in some kind of trouble? We always get out of it,” Sam stated, so sure of himself. 

Dean all but stifled a laugh. "Sure, Sammy. But we've…I've…never had to get out of a deal with a demon before. If there was a way to get out of it, don’t you think we’d know about it?” Dean finished a little more sternly than he intended. “It’s not happening and I’ve made peace with my decision. It’s done. So you should start doing the same.”

“Bobby, you’ve been awfully quiet on the subject. There’s gotta be something we can do, right?” Dean could tell that Sam was getting desperate now. It’s not that he didn’t understand why, he just knew there was no way out of this and didn’t want Sam getting hurt trying to get him out of it, or worse. Again.

“Sam I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think Dean’s got a point. If someone knew how to get out of a crossroads deal, we’d probably know about it. Other than that, I’m staying out of this. You and I both know I can’t sway this boy one way or another once he makes up his mind about something. So until he changes his mind,” Bobby paused when he saw the side eye being given to him from Dean. “If he changes his mind, the decision is made. I’m sorry kid.” The look Bobby gave Sam was one of sadness and hurt. He of all people would do anything for the boys, they were practically his own, but he knew this was a fight that they probably wouldn’t win, so why fight?

“No! We’ll read through all the lore, ask every hunter we know, search cover to cover on anything even _talking_ about demons, there’s something. There has to be,” Sam all but argued with Dean and Bobby, trying to keep his composure in the public space.

"You're kidding, right? I haven’t read that much since high school!” Dean tried joking, lightening the mood and hopefully changing the subject.

“Ha! Dude, you barely made it through _Catcher in the Rye_ in Hankins’ Lit class in Fairfax.”

“Yeah…well…whatever bitch…” Dean scoffed, remembering why he had a hard time staying focused in class; the pretty blonde, Amanda Heckerling.

“Jerk,” Sam retorted.

Before they could get any further in the conversation, you came back over, just as they exchanged those last few words, setting down the three plates of food in front of the guys. You weren’t about to question what they were talking about; it wasn't your place to ask. You did, however, give Bobby a look with a raised eyebrow, silently asking who these guys were. 

Hearing Bobby mutter “idjits” under his breath made you giggle.

“Enjoy gentlemen! Anything else I can get y’all?”

A sly smile settled on Dean’s lips as Bobby and Sam both said they were good with what they had. Just before you turned away, Dean spoke, making you pause. “How about your number, and what time your shift is done?” You let out another small laugh, just as Bobby’s hand met the back of Dean’s head with a ‘thwack’. 

“Boy, don’t be dumb.” 

Dean flinched away from the hit, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his head. As he rubbed his head he looked back up to you, the smile that had been there before, returning with an added gleam in his eye. “So…?”

You laughed again, shook your head and walked away to check on your other customers. As you turned around, you heard the guy next to him, “You’re such an idiot.”

After they had finished and the plates had been cleared, you brought their change back, setting each one’s in front of them respectively. “Hope you boys enjoyed breakfast. See you again soon.” Saving Dean’s for last, your hand lingering just a half a second longer than the others, making him look up at the gesture. You gave me a small smile and winked before turning and walking away. He picked up the change, only to see there was a blank receipt slip under the bills. Turning it over he read the words scrawled on the piece of paper.

_I’m off at 4. -Y/N_

\- - - 

Four o’clock rolled around and you said your goodbyes to everyone and left. Not paying attention while walking out of the diner, you ran into the back of someone standing on the sidewalk. 

“Oh! I’m so sor-” you stuttered as the person turned around, realizing who it was. “Dean.”

He just smiled at you, not the cocky smile that he had given you that morning, but the warm smile that reached those beautiful green eyes. 

“Y/N.”

You were still in shock over the fact that he even showed up. “What are you doing here?” Dean laughed at the question. 

“Well, you did say you were off at 4, so here I am,” he shrugged, his hands in his pockets now. “I was actually wondering…” he trailed off which made you smile. He was nervous and you found that endearing.

“Wondering what, Dean?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I know it’s short notice, but…”

“But you’re not from around here and you’re going to be leaving in a day or two to go do whatever it is you and that other guy do, and you're not sure when you're going to be back in town." You didn't say it in any kind of accusing or matter of fact tone; you even said it with a smile on your lips. You knew without asking him that everything you just told him was right, despite the fact that his jaw hanging open would have said otherwise. The whole situation made you laugh. 

“How did you…what’s so funny?" Dean asked with a thoroughly confused look on his face and his brow furrowing. 

“Nothing. It’s a small town and you see and hear things. I know you guys are friends of Bobby’s, and if you were from here, I’d see you more than the number of times that I’ve seen you over the last handful of years.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he said, laughing to himself. “And that other guy is my brother, Sam.” He told you, answering your unasked question.

“Well, to answer your question, I’d love to have dinner with you. There’s a burger place just on the other side of town, not too far of a drive. Then you can tell me all about your story, Dean.”

“Perfect,” he responded, barely over a whisper, giving you one of those gorgeous smiles again.

\- - -  
It was a nearly perfect fall and winter, despite the fact that you hated the snow and always being cold. That’s what you dealt with living in Sioux Falls, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Dean was true to his word and stopped by whenever he could, passing through from case to case. It was never more than a day or two at a time, but knowing what he and Sam did, you understood. It wasn’t like the world could save itself. 

When he was able to make it back, the two of you always made it a point to do something, or nothing, just enjoying the company of one another. Sometimes it was going out to dinner and a movie or staying in and cooking one of your favorite meals and seeing what was on Netflix. Other times it was just sitting on the couch sharing a bottle of wine or a six pack of beer telling stories and learning more about each other. Those were the nights that Dean usually ended up staying the night after things got a little hot and heavy on the couch and one too many comments from Chloe about getting a room. You never minded those nights. Even if they never went any further than making out like a couple of teenagers behind the bleachers at the football stadium, you always loved sleeping next to him and waking up to him in the morning.

When he was away, the two of you had this unspoken thing between you. You weren’t dating in the traditional sense of the word, but you also weren’t seeing other guys while Dean was gone, despite the fact that he told you he was fine with it. The main reason you didn’t was that there weren't any other guys worth your time in Sioux Falls, but also because you just weren’t interested in seeing two guys at once, whether or not they knew about each other. You had told Dean at some point that you weren’t expecting him to be a saint while he was away, that you didn’t mind if he slept with other women. Sam had told you a number of times that Dean had, somewhat surprisingly, changed his ways and stopped bringing girls home from the bar because of his feelings for you. Okay, so the two of you were dating. 

That April, almost a year after you had talked to Dean for the first time in the diner giving him a slice of pecan pie, Sam and Dean were on their way from Rochester, Minnesota to a case involving the Crow Reservation near Billings, Montana. As was their routine, they stopped through Sioux Falls for a day before Montana, which was the day that you found out. 

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” you asked Dean; the two of you sat on a park bench watching kids run around playing a game of hide and seek. 

“Sweetheart, I…there’s something that I have to do, to make up for something I did…it’s just…” 

"Something you did? Like, jail? Did you get caught doing something? I know not everything you do is legal-”

“No, not jail,” Dean chuckled. “I would much rather have a jail cell than where I’m going,” he said, looking down at your hands that were joined together. His thumb was running over the back of your hand in soothing circles. 

There were tears stinging the backs of your eyes now, but you weren’t entirely sure why. “De, please. Tell me what’s going on?” Your voice cracked as you cursed yourself for feeling this way. 

Dean inhaled deeply and held it, exhaling slowly and looking up to you. 

“Sammy died last year. Dead. Gone. Final. I got so desperate; I wasn’t ready to have him taken away…” he paused. You didn’t even bat an eyelash when he told you Sam died, even though you had seen him countless times; living and breathing. Dean had told you months ago all about the things that go bump in the night and the family business, and why he and Sam knew Bobby. Much to his surprise, none of it fazed you. Well, it certainly fazed you, but you never had the huge freak out that most other people had after being given ‘the talk’. Part of the talk included things not always staying dead, along with telling you what’s really out there. 

You sat there quietly, letting him finish in his own time, keeping the tears at bay. 

“As I said, I got desperate, even though we always swore we’d never make deals; for anything. I was just so…scared. I couldn’t keep my promise and I made a deal with a demon.”

You must have audibly swallowed because he looked up to you then, maybe gauging your reaction to everything he was telling you, ready to have you run for the hills. There was a slight shift of the expression on his face, relief maybe, that you stayed there holding his hand. 

“Do you remember when I came into the diner last year, I was sitting alone and the pretty waitress brought me a piece of pecan pie?” He looked at you and smiled, although it almost seemed forced. 

“Of course, it was the first time I talked to you, I’ll never forget that. I wanted so bad to…to help you. It seemed like all of life’s biggest problems were on your shoulders. Like you had to bury your feelings so that you could save everyone else.” You spoke slow, choosing your words before saying them. You remembered that day like it was yesterday, and now that you knew what he and Sam did, it all made a little more sense. 

“What about that day though?” you asked, confused what it had to do with the current conversation. 

He sighed and continued. “That was shortly after I made a deal to bring Sammy back, on the condition that I got a year.” There was a considerable pause. 

“A year…a year to what?” You asked tentatively, not entirely sure you wanted to hear the answer. 

There was that look again. The look of piercing green eyes looking so deep inside of you, you swore they were looking into your soul. Those same eyes had a sad almost apologetic look to them, one that made you decide that you didn’t want to know the answer after all. 

“To what, Dean. Please,” you all but pleaded, trying to keep your voice calm. 

“To live.”

“No. No, that’s not…no!” Your arms were around his neck in the next second, tears streaming down your face and staining his shirt. His arms were around you, a strong hand on the back of your head, distant whispers of ‘Shh’ and ‘It’s ok sweetheart’ in your ear.

Dean stayed with you for the next few days. Sam agreed on the break without putting up much of a fight and called in other hunters on the case in Montana. You called out of work without much question from Darla, knowing Bobby probably had something to do with that. Neither of you was up for making plans nor keeping busy. The first day you two spent together you laid around the house watching old movies and going for walks hand in hand around the park by your house. You couldn’t have been more thankful that your sister decided to go visit a friend in Mitchell for the week, promising yourself some much-needed sister time when she was back and…well you couldn't think that far ahead.

Despite your arguments, Dean told you that he was going to stay at Bobby’s that night since he and Sam were in the middle of something. He promised he would be back at your house first thing in the morning.

And he was. 

Feeling the warmth on your face from the sunlight coming through your window, you slowly started to come to. It was then that you realized there was a body next to you, the familiarity of it comforting. His slow breathing into your neck from behind you brought you further into consciousness. You inhaled deeply smelling the familiar scent of leather, vanilla, and whiskey; a combination that was all Dean. Feeling his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe and protected. All of these things told you in a fraction of a second that it was the man you never wanted to let go of. 

Not knowing if he was asleep or not, you turned around carefully, kissing him gently on the lips. He opened his eyes and you could tell that he hadn’t actually been sleeping.

“There you are,” he whispered, a smile forming on the lips you had just kissed. 

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreement, your eyes still fighting to stay awake. “Have you been awake long?”

“Yeah, didn’t sleep much. Sam kept us up all night with…research, and by the time he decided to go to bed, I decided to come sneak into your room.” 

“Well, I can’t say that I’m upset. I’ve always enjoyed waking up in your arms,” you said softly.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Dean said, running the back of his finger lightly along your cheek, moving to run it down the bridge of your nose making you giggle. 

You scrunched up your nose and opened your eyes, “What do you want to do today?” Honestly, you could just lie in bed with him staring into those gorgeous emerald eyes and count the freckles that covered his nose.

He looked at you for a moment before answering, like he was trying to memorize every little thing about you. The freckle that was on the very edge of your lip, the way your cheeks dimpled when you smiled and the unique coloring of your eyes that he always loved. 

“I just want to lay here all day hold you,” he said with a kiss. 

“And kiss you,” another kiss as you smiled into it, keeping your eyes closed.

“And love you,” he whispered, but not kissing you. 

Opening your eyes, they were visibly brighter than they were just moments ago before you closed them. “I love you, Y/N.”

You had never known the true feeling of when someone would say that their heart felt full, but this was definitely that feeling. Dean telling you that he loved you, looking at you with those beautiful green eyes of his and that adorable crooked little smile as he lay there next to you. The eyes that held the promise of forever. A smile, a real and genuine smile, found its way to your lips and eyes lighting up your whole face. 

“I love you too, Dean,” you whispered, meeting him halfway, your hand wrapping behind his neck and kissing him softly. Neither of you was rushed for anything; both of you wanted this to last as long as it possibly could. 

It lasted two more days before Dean and Sam had to go work a case in Monument, Colorado. He said it was something about needing to find a family heirloom, but wouldn't give you much more on the details. He and Sam drove by your house on the way out of town, seeing you waiting on the porch when they got there. Both of them got out of the Impala and walked up with Sam being the first one to hug you. Sam had to bend down quite considerably so that you could wrap your arms around his neck.

“Please keep him safe,” you whispered. 

“Of course.”

Both of you knew those were empty words, but you felt they had to be said anyway, maybe to make this a little less painful. You didn’t know if…or when…you would see them again. Dean never gave you an exact date on his year, but you knew it was coming up. Quick. 

Sam kissed your cheek, giving you the usual pleasantries before exchanging a look with Dean and heading back down to the Impala to wait. Dean just stood there, waiting for you to say or do something. You were fighting so hard on not crying, you had promised yourself you wouldn’t. That you would see him again before…

“Com’ere,” he whispered before he had you wrapped up in his arms, lips on the crown of your head as you finally broke and cried into his chest. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me. Where we’re goin’ right now, there’s something there that can hopefully help us with…everything. We’re so close, and we’re trying so damn hard. I don’t want to leave you. I want this, you, to be my forever. I want the apple pie life. I’m not sorry I got Sammy back, but I sure as hell don’t want to leave you now.”

You stayed where you were, face buried in his chest, still being held in his strong embrace. After a few minutes of silence you finally looked up at him, he was crying. It was that moment that you knew this was your forever, and it was slipping out of your grasp. Reaching up you gently wiped the tears from his face, your palm lingering on his warm cheek. Dean turned his head slightly, enough to kiss the inside of your hand. 

“Baby, I will call you and text you as much as humanly possible. I will make sure that Sam and I drive through town, even if I have to drive all night to get here, to you. I _will_ see you again before-”

A finger to his lips cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about that. Just please, please promise me that I’ll see you again. That you’ll be ok.” You couldn’t speak more than a whisper; for fear that your voice would crack.

“Y/N, I…I can’t-”

“Dean. Please,” you asked, locking eyes with him. 

The two of you knew he couldn’t make that promise, but you were hoping that it would maybe make you feel a little bit better. 

It didn’t. You knew it wouldn’t. 

“I love you, Y/N. You will always be my forever.”

“I love you too, Dean Winchester.”

\- - - - 

Dean kept his word and texted you, at least letting you know they were ok, and usually where they were.

**> > Hey sweetheart, in Wisconsin. Ran into some old…friends…of ours. **  
<< Friends? That seemed less than convincing. :P  
**> > Yeah, well, acquaintances. Helping some know-it-all wannabe ghost hunters…bunch of idiots. The Ghostfacers. -_-**  
<< Oh geez. I’ve seen some of their videos online…sorry you had to go through that.  
**> > Me. Too. I’ll text you later. Love you baby.**  
<< Love you too, D.

\- - - 

You even talked to Sam every now and then. 

<< Morning! What’s on the agenda for the day?  
**> > Morning. How’s everything there? Nothing much. Just a soul-eating monster. **  
<< Oh, so no big deal, is that what you were about to say?  
**> > I mean…No. Definitely no. We’ve got this. Don’t worry about us. Dean will be fine, and knowing him, he’ll probably end up being the one to save me. ;)**  
<< Haha. Well, whoever saves whom, just be safe.  
**> > Always.**

\- - - 

And sometimes you and Dean talked about things you knew weren’t going to happen, but somehow it made everything a little easier to handle.

**> > How’s my favorite girl?**  
<< Missing you. <3 How are you doing?  
**> > I miss you too sweetheart. We’re good. Sam is actually off gallivanting around Erie, Penn. about zombies or something. The kid is weird. **  
<< Zombies. Seriously. So then if he’s there, where are you?  
**> > I just don't question him any more. I'm off to see a friend of Bobby's in Canaan, Vermont. Seeing if he can help us with some stuff.**  
<< Bring back some maple syrup and I’ll make you pancakes when you get back. ;)  
**> > Breakfast in bed?**  
<< Anything you want.  
**> > I’ll hurry. xo**

\- - - - -

“G’morning Bobby,” you said with a little less (hope) in your voice, setting down a cup of coffee in front of him. 

Bobby just grunted, barely getting out a ‘good morning’ in response. Giving his mood, you weren’t entirely sure you should ask him what you really wanted to. It had been three weeks though since you had seen either Dean or Sam. There was the occasional text from Dean and even sometimes Sam, more or less just letting you know that they were alive. Bobby had been into the diner a few times, although not as much as he normally was. You figured he was probably busy with helping them with whatever it was they were doing.

“I know you want to darlin’, so just ask,” he said, staring into the black void of the cup as if it was going to give him the answers they had all been looking for. 

“Have you…heard anything? From either of them?”

He let out a long and heavy sigh. “They’re still alive, yes. But I don’t have much more than that. They’ve been working a few cases, got caught up with some bit of trouble named Bela, but other than that, I don’t know what’s going on with them. I-” he started, stopping himself.

“You what, Bobby?” you asked him pointedly, leaning over the counter.

“Nothing. Was just goin’ to say that I would tell you when I heard something.” He stood up, throwing a couple of bills on the counter for the coffee before kissing your cheek. “I have to go pick up a couple things.”

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he responded, although he sounded really unsure of himself. 

He said he hadn’t heard anything more than you had, and hadn’t seen them. Or if he had heard more, he didn’t say anything, and you could tell there was something he wasn’t saying. After all, you had known this man since you were a kid and had long since figured out how to read him to know when he wasn’t telling you something.

\- - -  
Sam, Bobby and Dean were huddled around the table in Bobby’s living room that night with a map of the country in front of them and a tracking device sitting over it. 

“So, are you going to tell Y/N you’re here? Maybe see her before we go…wherever this tells us to?” He asked Dean, pointing to the contraption sitting on the tabletop. 

“No.” He responded flatly, keeping his gaze on the table and his arms crossed over his chest. “That would hurt her too much. It’ll be easier if I just stay gone at this point. We had our goodbyes, no sense it having her go through all of that again. Bobby, you sure you know what you’re doing?”

"Yes, I know what I'm doin’ boy. We’re going to use this to scry for her. We have the name, I have the ritual and with those two there’s nothin’ you can’t find. You boys ready?” He asked, looking between Sam and Dean, taking their silence as a yes.

Starting the swing of the pendulum and reciting the ritual in Latin, the pendulum swung for a moment then stopped abruptly; over New Harmony, Indiana. 

“Guess that’s my stop,” Dean says as he makes his way for his bag and the keys to the Impala. 

“Whoa, hold on. Alone? Seriously? Do we _have_ to go through this charade again? You say no, I say yes, we argue, go around four more times before you give in. I’m going. End of discussion.”

Dean stares at Sam and the bitch face he’s getting form him for a solid thirty seconds, clenching and unclenching his jaw, before saying anything. “Fine. Bitch.”

“Jerk. I’m helping you drive, too. No sense in you going in tired.”

"You boys done? We got a twelve-hour drive ahead of us."

With a few miles left before the house that Lilith was in, Dean pulled out his phone. He knew it was late and that you would probably be sleeping. He was kind of hoping you would be so that you couldn't answer. Maybe he was cruel for doing this, selfish even. But he had to say something, even if it was a one-sided conversation. 

** <<Hey sweetheart. I know it’s late, you’re probably in bed, and that’s fine. There’s so much I’d like to say, to tell you. I wish I could say it *to* you instead of like this. I love you, Y/N. Forever. xo. **

****

The night carried on with Bobby, Dean and Sam finding the house, and the child, that Lilith was in. Ruby, to Dean’s surprise, actually helped them out. 

And then just like that, at the stroke of midnight, Dean was gone. 

Bobby and Sam drove the four hours to Pontiac and buried Dean, against his wishes, in a plain pine box under an unmarked cross. Sam figured Dean would want his body if he could only figure out how to get him back. 

Bobby was driving the Impala, Sam too out of it to even think about driving. He heard a beep coming from the glove box, figuring one of the backup phones was dying, something he could have cared less about right then. It beeped again, only this time it wasn’t from a dying battery; it was a notification. Opening the compartment and finding the phone right on top, he realized it was Dean’s current phone that he must have left it in the car before they went inside. 

_1 Unread Message – Y/N_

This was the _last_ thing he wanted to do. 

>>I love you too D. Can’t wait for those pancakes. I miss you. <3 

Sam wasn’t mean; he wasn’t going to respond, not from Dean’s phone. He certainly wasn’t about to tell her what happened over the phone or through a text message. 

“Bobby, when we get back to Sioux Falls, the diner is the first stop. Y/N will be working the morning shift.” 

“Kid, are you sure that’s-” 

“Yes. She has to know, sooner rather than later,” he said looking down at the phone in his hands. 

“I’ll stop in tomorrow-” 

“No. I need to do it” Sam said, cutting Bobby off again. 

“I promised…” he started, needing to take a breath before continuing. “I promised Dean that I would talk to her, that I would make sure she was ok. I need to do this…for him.” 

With that, silence flooded the car. Sam stared out the window, despite the fact that it was pitch black out and he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to try to take a nap. But anytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was Dean getting ripped to bits by the hellhound that he couldn’t even see. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Sam walked into the diner, it had been a week since you had seen Bobby. That in itself surprised you, seeing as the man couldn’t go more than two days without coming in for at least a cup of coffee. Sam saw you clearing plates from the counter while talking to one of the patrons, laughing at something they had said to you. He didn’t immediately walk over to you, waiting until your attention was on him. 

As you turned away from the counter your gaze fell on him and your smile faded. The moment you saw him standing there, alone, you knew. Sam looked guilty, but not in the way one does when they’ve done something wrong. It was how he couldn’t meet your eyes or in the way his chest heaved when he breathed a sigh to stop his own despair from overflowing. He wasn’t just mourning the loss, but also carrying the pain of knowing you would be now, too.

The only sound in the entire diner was that of the plates that had been in your hand suddenly shattering into a million tiny pieces on the floor, but you didn’t notice the noise. In the next second, you were falling to your knees, not realizing tiny shards of glass were cutting into your legs, the dress of your uniform doing nothing to protect you. You felt the stinging, an even more painful one on the palm of your hand that was trying to hold your body up as you sat there hunched over, your body wracked with sobs. Sam rushed over to you, closing the small space quickly with his long legs, helping you up before you hurt yourself any more than you already had. You felt the warmth of his body, felt his arms lifting you up effortlessly, felt that you were somehow moving. You didn't realize that Darla was ushering Sam into the back room.

You hadn’t even noticed Bobby there with Sam. Bobby talked to Darla and told her a condensed version of what had happened to throw you into a tailspin like that. More than understanding about the situation, she went back and told Sam to take you home. You, of course, couldn’t hear any of this through the sobs that you were crying into Sam’s shoulder as he held you, your now bloody hand gripping his flannel, despite the pain it was causing. You could barely hear the murmurs of Sam, shushing you and saying that everything was going to be ok. He held you, running a hand over the back of your head, a few tears of his own falling into your hair. The sound of the ‘no’ that you kept repeating seemed so distant to you like it wasn't coming from your own mouth.

Never letting go of Sam, you were only vaguely aware that you were moving again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Sam got in the passenger side of Bobby’s old pickup truck carefully, still holding on to you. It wasn't the most comfortable ride, but you weren't ready to let go, and he wasn't about to argue with you. Bobby didn't live far from town, only about 15 minutes, most of which were quiet rural roads. The sound of the tires on the asphalt soothed you some, your body not shaking as it had been by the time you got to his house, but the pain in your legs and hand making you whimper every so often. You hadn't moved from the spot on Sam's shoulder, surely having soaked his shirt through with your tears and blood. 

By the time you reached the house, you were little more than quietly crying. When Bobby pulled in, he turned off the engine and sat for a moment, not really sure what to say. He got out of the truck and walked around the back to open Sam’s door. In the brief moment that it was just the two of you, you somehow managed to find your voice, the rasp of it very evident from the crying. 

“He’s gone.”

You felt his deep inhale and exhale at the words; his arms tightening around you. With your head still on Sam’s shoulder, you only heard Bobby open the door, the nonverbal exchange between Sam and Bobby lost on you. Hearing the crunch of gravel after a beat and guessing it was Bobby walking away, Sam made no move to get out of the truck. After a moment, Sam spoke but was unable to pull you out of your thoughts, his words barely registering with you. 

“I know, Y/N/N. We can find him. I know we can. He won’t be gone forever,” kissing the top of your head, not knowing what that word meant to you. 

At the mention of that word, your entire body tensed up in Sam’s arms. Forever. That’s what it was supposed to be. You were supposed to be his forever, and you his. It was supposed to be the two of you, having a slice of that apple pie life. But now he was gone. 

Your mind went blank. Dean was gone. Actually and truly gone. 

\- - - 

“Y/N, can you take these for me? It’ll help with the pain when I clean you up,” Sam asked softly. He tried to get your attention on him, tucking a hair behind your ear and moving his hand to your chin, keeping his movements gentle. The look in your eyes he was met with was…well he didn't know what it was. The closest thing he could think of was that they were empty. Despite the fact that your eyes were on him, he could tell you weren't really focusing on him, it was almost like you were looking right through him as if he wasn't sitting in front of you. 

You didn’t respond and made no movement to take the pills from him. You stayed there, staring into nothing, your entire world just one giant void.

“Sam, I think she’s gone catatonic,” Bobby said from somewhere in the room. “Girl went straight past shock. She’s gotta come out of this on her own.”

“Bobby, this is going to hurt, I…I can’t do that to her.”

“There’s some local anesthetic in the first aid kit. It’ll at least help dull the pain,” he said before going off to get the kit.

When he came back, Sam spread the local around the gash on your hand hoping to God that it would help you. He moved down to your legs, taking the tweezers out of the kit and started meticulously pulling out pieces of glass. To Sam, the sound of the shards hitting the bottom of the bowl next to him was deafening. He kept looking up from his spot on the floor in front of you, making sure you were ok, your face remaining emotionless. When all of the glass was out, he took a clean rag and soaked it with peroxide before whispering, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” and cleaned the cuts. 

Hoping that the time spent on your legs was enough to let the anesthetic numb your hand, he took the tweezers again to start the process over. Only this time it was deeper and one that would need sutures. The glass was a little more unwilling to dislodge from your hand since it had been sitting for so long, the blood drying around it. After trying to coax it out gently, unsure of what your reaction would be, he finally went for it and pulled it out, hearing you inhale sharply but staying unmoved. When he was sure that there were no more stray pieces, he took the peroxide and cleaned the wound, knowing this one hurt, the sound of your increased breathing confirming that for him.

The stinging of the peroxide was the only thing you could feel, reminding you that this was real and everything was happening. 

And that Dean was gone.

Much to Sam’s surprise, you didn’t budge when he started sewing up your palm, knowing that no matter how well he stitched, it was going to leave an ugly scar. One that would remind you every day of the day you lost Dean. Fourteen sutures later and the two-inch cut on your hand was closed. He bandaged it, along with some of the ones on your legs and cleaned up the area around the two of you. 

Not knowing what else to do, Sam brought you a piece of toast and a glass of water. He thought that whenever you did come out of this, you would no doubt be thirsty, and probably wouldn’t want much more than the slice of bread. That was if you decided to eat at all.

An hour. That’s how long Sam spent pacing the room, moving from one sitting spot to another and checking his phone for messages he knew weren’t there. An hour is how long he spent watching you, as your body blankly processed what the hell had happened. 

Another hour and Bobby was in the room standing next to him where he sat in the chair across from you, his elbows on his knees and chin resting on his hands. 

“Here,” Bobby said gruffly, handing Sam a beer.

“Thanks.”

He took it and drank down almost half of it, wishing for something stronger. 

“So.”

“Bobby, I don’t know what to do. Where do we start? What do I do? Call up every demon I can and ask where he is?”

“I suppose that’s a start.”

“And then what? What demon in their right mind is going to tell me how to help him?”

Bobby had since moved over to the desk that was covered with old texts and ancient lore. “I don’t know Sam. I’ve never had to try to get someone out of Hell before,” he said, sounding as tired as he looked.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Sam closed his eyes, once again being met with the sight of the Hellhound. Despite the image, he kept his eyes closed and head down, waiting for an idea, any idea, to come to him. 

“Angels.”

At the sound, his head snapped up and he and Bobby were looking to the source. 

“Angels can pull a soul out of Hell,” you said, your voice monotonous and distant. Blinking a few times you turned your gaze to Sam who was looking at you like he had just seen a ghost. 

“Angels can do it. They can save him,” you repeated, a little more life back in your voice. 

“Y/N, Angels don’t…no one has ever seen an Angel. Dean doesn’t even believe in them. Hell, with as much faith as I have, believing in God and praying, I wonder if I even believe they exist.”

Keeping your eyes on him you responded flatly, like it answered everything, “Demons exist.”

Letting out a short huff of air Sam thought about that. “Yeah, they do. Ok then, where are we going to find an Angel?”

\- - - 

You thought it funny, that the reason any of the work on your degree was coming in handy was that the guy you were seeing sold his soul to save his brother and was now sitting in the depths of Hell as payment. Well, funny might have been a strong word; ironic maybe. Nevertheless, you knew the one thing that could save him, other than the Demons just deciding to let him go, was an Angel. 

The moment you realized that it was an Angel you needed, you went through every single book in Bobby’s den, with Bobby even going out to the truck and getting the few out there. If it had the word ‘angel’ even _once_ you were reading it. 

It took you two days. Two days to go through every text the older hunter had, only to come up with the thing you already knew; Angels can save a soul from Hell. Bobby had a big ancient looking book with gilded edges and leather bound, _Una Storia degli Angeli di Enochian_. You were sure the answer was somewhere in the book, even if you stayed up all night trying to decipher the Old Italian text. There was really only one part that you cared about. It was a page facing a full-page color print of an angel quite literally dragging a soul out of the depths of Hell. Your eyes were drawn to it and you sat there looking at it for twenty minutes, running your finger over the already well-worn page. The only thing you could think of was Dean, trapped down there; his only hope of a rescue was damn near impossible. Ok, impossible. It wasn’t like you could just order up an Angel or dial a 1-800 service. 

There was no way you could make this work. And you hated it. 

"Y/N, please, you need to sleep. You have been up for nearly forty hours, and have barely had anything to eat. Not only is that _not_ good for you, but we also haven't found anything. There's no use searching the same books again when we know what isn't inside.”

Sam was knelt down next to your knees where the book was resting. You didn’t realize you were crying until you saw the tear hit the antique page. His hand came into your field of view when it rested on top of the hand sitting on the picture. Sam lightly squeezed your hand, a gesture to get you to try to look at him. "Let's get you upstairs. I have an extra t-shirt you can have, and maybe a pair of sweats somewhere," he said to you as if he was talking to a scared animal. 

You shook your head, holding back the tears that wanted so badly to fall. “My legs hurt,” you whispered, hoping he knew what you meant.

“That’s ok. I’ll get you something for the pain. Let’s go upstairs, hm?”

Nodding, you kept your gaze on the picture. The longer you looked at it, the more it started looking like it could have been a painting of Dean. _Maybe it really was time to get some sleep._

Once you were changed, leaving the sweat pants at the foot of the bed; you carefully got under the covers. The effects of the pain medicine hadn’t set in yet, and the sheet rubbing against the cuts on your legs made you wince in pain. Sam was by your side in a second. 

“Hey…hey, you ok?” squatting down to match your sitting height.

All you could do was nod, throwing the sheet off of you to ease any further discomfort. 

Realizing what the was issue at the gesture. “Oh. The meds should kick in soon, maybe help you sleep a little bit. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Go?” you asked him, looking up at him almost panicked. 

“I’m just going to be downstairs. I’m not going to leave,” Sam said calmly.

“Oh. Ok.”

“Call me if you need something, okay? Try to get some sleep.”

With that, Sam stood back to his full height and turned to go, making a panic rise inside of you. At the last second, you grabbed his arm making him look down at you with a questioning look on his face. 

“Can you…um…I don’t…”

“Of course, Y/N/N.”

Changing his jeans for the sweats on the bed and shedding his coat and flannel down to just a t-shirt, Sam got in bed next to you, letting you curl into him so you were comfortable. 

“I couldn’t save him,” you said so softly that it could barely register on the decibel scale. Sam somehow still heard it though because he replied with a simple, “We’ll get him back,” that was just as quiet leaving a kiss to your forehead.

That’s all it took for the floodgates to break sending you into yet another meltdown as you cried yourself to sleep in Sam’s arms.

\- - - 

It was three more days before you went back home and two weeks before you went back to work. In those two weeks, you had told your sister what had happened and why you had suddenly gone AWOL without so much as a text. The one thing that you were thankful for was that she didn’t get Sherriff Mills involved because that would have created a whole mess of problems you just didn’t need. At least now that Chloe knew what had happened, and why, you had someone to talk to about it; when you felt like talking. Your days were quiet, your once bubbly and shiny personality now flat and dull.

Sam also left. He said he needed to go hunt and kill something, and despite him promising you that he would text and let you know he was ok, you rarely heard from him.

Living in Sioux Falls was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, people talked so gossip spread like wildfire. On the other hand, people talked so they knew when _not_ to bring something up with someone. Like a boy gone and dragged into hell by an invisible hound, not that they knew the real details of what happened. While you were still pleasant with the patrons in the diner, they respected your space and never asked about the scar on your hand that was still an angry red, or if you were okay. They also dared not ask about the boy, knowing they’d probably have to deal with Bobby if it got brought up. 

Bobby came into the diner almost every morning. He’d skip a morning here and there, usually if he was busy helping another hunter with some research. The two of you knew he was only doing it so he could check up on you and make sure you were still okay, without actually asking if you were okay.

Which is why, by the morning of September 18th, you set down the cup of coffee in front of Bobby giving him an “I’m fine,” instead of a “Good morning.”

“I know darlin’. I just worry about ya’ is all.”

“I know Bobby. But things are finally starting to settle, I’m getting better and school is going well. I’m okay,” you told him as you looked down at your hand that held the scar from the day four months ago. You weren’t lying when you told him you were fine, but you also weren’t about to tell him that you still had rough days. 

“Have you heard anything from Sam? He’s been quiet, at least with me,” you asked changing the subject, wiping down the counter near him.

“Yeah, sort of. He called last week asking for some help with research on a ghost he was dealing with in Kittanning, Pennsylvania. It seemed to have been a simple salt and burn from the looks of things. Other than that, I haven’t heard from him. Knowing him he probably holed himself up in some podunk town.”

“Well, if you hear from him, tell him I said hi.”

\- - - 

Bobby didn't come into the diner the next day or the day after that. Not even on Sunday, and he _never_ missed Sunday. It wasn’t that odd, he had been gone days at a time before without saying anything to you. But something was telling you that it wasn’t right. You decided that you’d wait until Monday and if he didn’t come in, you were calling the Sherriff. 

Sure enough, he showed up at 8:00 on the dot, like clockwork. 

“Mr. Robert Singer, what the hell have you been?” You asked, hand on hip, waiting for him to take off his coat that was soaked through with the fall storm that was moving through town. 

“Sorry darlin’. Got caught up with…a case, and it uh…took a little more doin’ than we expected.”

You looked at him a second narrowing your eyes, deciding if you were going to believe him. When you figured he had no reason to not be telling the truth, you went and got his coffee. With the morning rush, you tuned out the bell above the door since it was constantly ringing with people going out and coming in. In a brief second, you saw a figure walk by the front windows of the diner, recognizing the gait, and height, and profile. _But it couldn’t be. There’s absolutely no way. I tried…_

The doors opened again, some commotion with people going in and out, making them stay open longer than anyone probably wanted them to. But with them staying open, you were able to see outside and see a person standing down on the sidewalk looking up into the diner. A person you hadn’t seen for four months. A person you thought you were never going to see again.

Dean.

Holding the coffee pot as you realized all of this, having just finished pouring Mr. Peterson’s coffee, you had the good sense to set the pot down before starting to walk towards the doors. Bobby spun around on his stool watching your realization, a tiny smirk on his lips. He’d deny that it happened until the end, even though you couldn’t see it. 

As you got to the door, you wondered if this was your imagination playing some sort of cruel trick on you. It wouldn’t have been the first time you thought you saw him somewhere, lost in the crowd. Pushing on the door slowly fearing that the image would disappear once the door was opened, you saw that the figure was still there and that it was most definitely Dean Winchester.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, speaking up over the sound of the pouring rain. His smile was just as you remembered it.

He was completely soaked through, water droplets on the ends of his hair, the shoulders of his coat a darker green than the rest, the bottoms of his pant legs darker denim from the puddles of water. Soaked or not, it was Dean. Your Dean. Once it settled in your mind that this was your Dean, you ran down the short front steps and up to him, looking at him intently with a look of shock still on your face. You tentatively reached your hand up as if you were about to touch his cheek, then paused, still not totally convinced he was real. 

There was a glimmer of amusement in his eye as he watched you process all of this. As your finger touched his cheek gently, feeling the warmth of his skin, the realization fell over you, your eyes widening slightly as they looked into his.

“Dean,” you breathed out before throwing your arms around his neck as his went tightly behind your back holding you close to his chest. You nuzzled your face into his neck inhaling deeply, the smell of leather, vanilla and whiskey still there. You didn’t move for a solid two minutes. You could care less about the rain or how wet your uniform was getting. All you cared about was that Dean was back and you were in his arms. 

After you somewhat reluctantly broke apart you started in with all of the questions. “But how? Bobby, Sam and I tried everything, looked for anything and asked everyone we possibly knew. How are you back?”

He let out a laugh, a hand going to the back of his neck. “I’m not sure you would believe me if I told you.”

“After everything, try me Winchester. I’m sure I can handle it,” you told him, your hands still on his waist, not wanting to let him go. 

“Well, it was an angel, which I didn’t think existed, but then everything was pointing to that so we went to see a psychic named Pamela and she found him and tried to talk to him and we got a name and we figured out a way to summon him and he showed up and told me why and-” he paused, not because he was telling you all of this without stopping to take a breath, but because of the look on your face. Shock? Horror? Scared? He couldn’t really tell.

“What, what is it Y/N?” his voice now only filled with concern.

“You said…an ang- an _angel_ brought you back?”

“Uh, yeah. See? I told you it was going to sound crazy,” he said with an unsure laugh. 

“No, it’s not that it’s…that’s what I told Sam and Bobby. I knew it was an angel that could save you, I just couldn’t figure out how to talk to them, to find them. That’s the only reason I ever stopped looking,” you told him before you were hugging around his neck once again, “I’m so sorry I stopped looking for you.” By this point, you couldn't tell the difference between the tears and the rain that was running down your face. Quite honestly, you didn't care what saved him, you were just glad he was back. 

“Sweetheart, you did everything you could and that means the absolute world to me,” Dean said as he started rubbing his hands up and down your back, your uniform thoroughly soaked through. His hands trailed up to your shoulders and started making their way along your arms. He pulled ever so gently, wanting you to release your hold on him as he took your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and placing soft kisses on the back of your hands. Turning them over before placing a kiss on one palm, and then the other, right over the scar that had since faded but not disappeared. You could only assume that Sam had told him what had happened the day he came to get you. Looking intently at the scar and running a thumb over it he shifted his gaze up to your eyes, tears in his own that were even greener as they stood out against the dark grey sky. “I’m so sorry baby.”

You knew there was nothing that you could say to make him believe that it really was ok. It may have been a quick year and a long four months, but you knew how Dean worked, and you knew he would forever blame himself for the mark on your hand. “It’s ok, I promise,” was all you could say, giving him a soft but genuine smile.

“So, know anywhere where a guy can get a slice of pie? I’ve missed it,” he said with a short laugh and beautiful smile. 

You grinned, “You better not be saying you missed pie more than me Dean Winchester.”

“It felt like forever that I was without you, I can’t miss anything more than I missed you,” he said, a hand coming up to run the backs of his fingers gently over your cheek. His smile shifted slightly in the way of going from playful to loving. He looked at you like you were the most important thing to him that he never wanted to be without again. Dean’s thumb settled on your jaw, fingers resting on your neck and slowly pulled you into him. His lips hovered over yours, and you saw his eyes squeeze shut, almost as if he was afraid you were nothing but another dream, like the ones that helped him get through the last four months. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, only able to be heard with how close he was.  
“I love you too, Dean.”

The moment flesh touched flesh; a small whimper escaped you, prompting him to grip your waist just as tight as the angel who saved him did. The kiss deepened, longing nips and shared breaths as your lips became acquainted after so long. Two intense fires grew into a blaze that couldn’t be lessened by the rain that continued to fall; and all from a slip of his silky tongue against yours. There was no getting enough of the taste of him, or the passion in which he devoured you, leaving you completely oblivious to the passersby. Finally you were able to steel yourself away from him, and he only let you because he needed to see your face again; caress your cheek and see that you were truly real.

“What do you think it would be like to be able to have forever?” He asked you, his eyes searching your face as if he was memorizing it all over again, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Forever?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like everything I’ve ever wanted with you.”


End file.
